


In Deep Waters

by osprey_archer



Series: Soulbond [1]
Category: Frontier Wolf - Rosemary Sutcliff
Genre: M/M, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 20:38:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/osprey_archer/pseuds/osprey_archer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The longing was strong in Cunorix to take that outstretched hand, slim and strong, and follow Alexios wherever he would go. That was the soulbond speaking: it pulled at him, like the current of a river, and if Cunorix had looked into Alexios’s eyes, perhaps it would have drowned him.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Deep Waters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Isis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isis/gifts).



> Thanks to sineala for betaing this!

“Come back with me,” Alexios said suddenly. “To Castellum.” 

Cunorix had been poking idly at the fire, but now he slowly lowered the stick to lean against the rocks. He stared at Alexios, who sat on his haunches, a light hand on his new-killed wolf. “To dine at Castellum?” said Cunorix, though he knew, with the knowing that comes of soulbonds, that Alexios meant more than that. “To celebrate your wolf?” Cunorix said, and there was almost a pleading in his voice, that this could be all that Alexios meant. 

“As my soulbond,” Alexios said. He lifted his hand from the thick fur of his wolf and held it out, palm up, to Cunorix. 

The longing was strong in Cunorix to take that outstretched hand, slim and strong, and follow Alexios wherever he would go. That was the soulbond speaking: it pulled at him, like the current of a river, and if Cunorix had looked into Alexios’s eyes, perhaps it would have drowned him. 

But he did not lift his gaze from Alexios’s hand, and other bonds, older bonds seemed to rise in his mind like bubbles on the water. Shula; his father, his brother - his _tribe_ , which he must care for when his father died - 

And at that thought, a coldness grew in Cunorix’s stomach. It whispered, _Why does this Roman think it is for you to go to his people_? 

This Roman, who had no bonds to bind him to his fort. Who had only arrived a few months ago, and could be replaced as easily as he had replaced the previous commander. 

The tribes did not always pass on leadership so quietly. If Ferradach Dhu died, and Cunorix could not succeed him...

Cunorix lifted his face, meaning to say _I can’t_ , but the words died on his lips when he looked in Alexios’s gray eyes. The joy of the hunt and the hope of bringing Cunorix to Castellum had faded into concentration, as if he listened to the strong jangling music of Cunorix’s feelings; and he said, “I have made you unhappy. I am sorry.” And he laid a hand on Cunorix’s arm. 

Cunorix had once toppled off a tree branch into a lake. He had twisted as he had fallen, and beneath the water he had been all turned around, floating in the feeling that there was neither up nor down. He felt that again now: as if his feelings had merged with Alexios’s into a strange lulling sea, and he could float in them forever and not drown. 

Cunorix broke free from Alexios’s hand. He took a great gulp of air and he said, more roughly than he meant, “Of course I can’t come with you.” 

He did not look at Alexios, for looking strengthened the bond, but even so he felt the spike of pain off Alexios. “But why not?” said Alexios. “You want to. I can feel that.” 

“No, the soulbond wants me to,” said Cunorix. Alexios’s face did not change, but Cunorix felt the spike of pain behind that still face, and said, “Of course I want to go with you.” For it was true. “But do you not see, Alexios? My father grows weaker, and I am to be chief when he dies.”

“Could Connla not be chief?” said Alexios. 

“Connla chief!” said Cunorix. “Impetuous Connla, Connla who does not think; Connla who injures horses in his haste. How then do you think he would lead men? And he would not step aside to let a wiser take his place: if I do not, he will be chief or die trying, and can I let my people suffer that?” 

He was shocked at his openness, for these were thoughts he kept locked in his heart. Only once he had discussed it with his father; and it had not been so much in words, but in glances at each other as they watched Connla battle a stallion. “When you are chief, mind you that he does not hurt the horses,” Ferradach Dhu had said. 

Cunorix might argue with Connla, but he would never find fault with Connla in discussing him with others; Connla would not have borne it. To say these things to an outsider - and yet not an outsider - 

“Not Connla, then,” said Alexios. “Is there no other among your tribe who might lead?” 

“You do not understand,” said Cunorix. “Connla will accept me as chief, because I have always been higher than him; but he would not stand to see another elevated above him. We are not like Romans, we of the tribes, who will follow any fool duly appointed above us...”

“Fool!” said Alexios; and Cunorix saw that Alexios thought the word was meant for him - and believed it a fair judgment on himself. 

“I do not mean you,” Cunorix said, so pained by Alexios’s acceptance of that seeming judgment that he almost touched Alexios’s hand. 

Almost - but he remembered that swimming sensation, and his stomach lurched at the thought. It had not been unpleasant, but - he thought he might lose himself in it, and he could not.

“I mean only - that Rome could send another Commander easily, while there is no one to send us another chief. So if you want so badly for us to be together, then it is you who must come to me.” 

Cunorix was shocked at his own words. Shula had said it would be all right, but of course she would be unhappy; and his father, Connla, all his people, would they approve? 

Alexios looked shocked too. “But I cannot leave my post,” he said. “I swore myself to Rome. And what if the next Commander that they send is a fool in truth? I cannot abandon my Wolves to that.” 

“Then it will not matter to you: because you will be with me among the tribes,” Cunorix said. Alexios looked amazed; and Cunorix said, “Do you think that only Romans can take vows? Or is it only, that only Roman vows _count_? It is you who wants us to be together, so it ought to be you who leaves your people, because you have less to keep you there, and because it is you who wanted this bond and not I.” 

The smile fell off Alexios’s face at once, his crinkled eyes widening and then flickering to the side, hands clasping tightly as they hung between his knees. His expression was the more painful because he was trying so hard to hide his hurt, the muscles not only in his face but in his body locked against it; but Cunorix could feel the sorrow bleeding off Alexios, and felt an answering tightness in his throat. 

“I didn’t mean - ” he began; and in that moment he truly had not meant it: he would not willingly have said something to hurt his soul mate so. 

But Alexios raised a hand to stay him. “You did mean it,” he said. There was accusal in his voice, but not toward Cunorix; and that self-accusation seemed to hit him on a still-raw wound, because his head dropped further under it. 

_He always blames himself,_ Cunorix thought. “Alexios,” he said, and without thinking, he placed a hand on Alexios’s shoulder. A maelstrom surged about him: a surge of spray, guilt for wanting the soulbond, and below that embarrassment and shame for wanting anything, and the whirlpool swirling around a pit of fear (of failing; of not being good enough, never being good enough) - 

And then Alexios moved away, brushing at his shoulder as if he could not stand the memory of Cunorix’s hand. “The soulbond is making you sorry,” said Alexios. “I do not want you to be sorry because you have to be.” 

“But that is what a soulbond does,” said Cunorix. “It is a gift from the gods: they bind us, whether we would or no.”

“Like Paris and Helen,” murmured Alexios. His mouth twisted wryly. “I suppose Paris did not think of the consequences either, when he wooed Helen away to Troy with him. It is a pity she did not remind him of their duties.” 

Cunorix did not know the story, but he saw that he had won his point, and felt an emptiness in his stomach. So he and Alexios would part. It would be better so, but - he and Alexios would part. 

Alexios straightened himself with a jerk of his shoulders. “I must return to Castellum,” he said. He lifted the limp body of his wolf-brother onto his horse and mounted up; but before he had gone more than a few paces away, he paused and twisted on his saddle to look at Cunorix. “You will visit?” 

“Of course.” Cunorix checked himself. “It is not wise...” It only strengthened the soulbond, to be too much together. 

“Of course,” echoed Alexios. He turned around and rode away, head lifted and shoulders straight. This time, he did not turn back. 

But, even though it was bad luck, Cunorix could not turn away. He watched until Alexios had vanished beyond the horizon.


End file.
